I’m balding

The more I stress, the balder I get. Insomnia, migraines, rage, tears, shortness of breath those are the normal ways stress manifest physically but for me my hair pays the price. 

It is sad. I want to do something about it but as a creature  of habit, this has been hard to break. At one of my temples, lies a patchy spot: rough, unkempt thatch’s, alternating gaps of hair and scalp. A physical testament to the emotional turmoil the mind has been sailing through. Reddit says it’s trichotillomania  and treatment is therapy, head scarves, stress balls, and tretinoin.

Self diagnosis says I’m in the stage four. Death is looming. Though this patch is met with pity, it has been my body’s way to say we only have each other. My bald spot has held me together like no other. With no shoulder to lean on, I have leaned on her strands. Laying the fardeaux of my heart at her feet, till her follicles could bear no more.

My teeth comfort her. They say that this too shall pass. They speak of when under the weight of the world, they too were ground. The jaws also chip in and recount of  how under the weight of the world, they would lock. They would lock so tightly. So tightly, till speech would be impeded. Silent frantic prayers would restore order but there was always the imminent danger, that one day they would lock, never opening again. Reddit said it’s a sign of extreme stress. They advised to reach out to a therapist . To slow down. Chant affirmations. Sermons said to take the burden that is light and rebuke all else. Seeking help from folks would do but I only speak after I’ve conquered. I promised I’d handle it-like a grown up, take it all jn like adults do.

And so slowly whilst I thought I was handling well, the venom just moved from my jaws to my fingers. Fingers, hungry for plucking. They would pluck and pluck and pluck. And boy since this ain’t no pubes, everyone witnessed the landscape on my temples change. Some advised, I stop with the tight hairstyles. Others recommended the healing powers of amla, extra virgin oil and frequent massages. I promised to heed. But why drown her in oil, when in the end I only have her?

I’ll carry this patch with pride and till her roots grow again.